


Outrun, Outlast

by StarSpray



Series: Wisdom of the Evening Star [23]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Rivendell | Imladris, War of the Elves and Sauron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-10-13 03:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10505205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpray/pseuds/StarSpray
Summary: Stay alive until this horror show is pastEregion has fallen; Sauron is closely pursuing Elrond and Celeborn’s forces, who desperately need somewhere to hide.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Back to Middle-earth Month 2017 Prompt: “We go, we go, we go to war, to hew the stone and break the door; For bole and bough are burning now, the furnace roars—we go to war!” - The Two Towers

"Sweet Elbereth," Elurín murmured as he and Eluréd reached the highest branches of the tree. It was difficult to see very far through the haze of smoke—Sauron and his servants seemed to set fire to nearly everything they touched—but the "banner" hoisted over Sauron's host was unmistakable. "Is that who I think it is?"

"Probably." Eluréd could not look very long before he began climbing back down, concentrating on the pine sap sticking to his hands so he didn't have to think about the vision of destruction laid out in front of them. "Can you think of anyone else he'd want to display like that?"

"I never thought I would pity a scion of Fëanor's house," Elurín said. He dropped lightly to the ground beside Eluréd. "Did you see any sign of Elrond's people?" Eluréd shook his head. "I didn't, either."

"He can't turn back west, or south," Eluréd said. "The only way he _can_ go is north." He raised his head, looking back south. "Elurín…"

"Do you think we have time?"

"Yes, I think so."

It took a few hours, but by the time they turned northward to try to catch up to Elrond and Celeborn, there were several large, cleverly hidden traps and pits waiting for the orcs to come charging heedlessly through. It would not delay them long, but every little bit helped, in times like these. And with any luck, the Enemy's soldiers might think the land itself was set against them.

They had not intended to get involved. Word had reached them at Iarwain Ben-adar's house of some nonsense with rings going on in Eregion, and then something about that strange Annatar being having actually been _Sauron_ , and they had decided it was a good thing they'd avoided Eregion since his coming, having heard that neither Gil-galad, Elrond, nor Galadriel trusted him. "Imagine if we'd walked up and introduced ourselves," Elurín had remarked, as they lay on the grassy banks of the Withywindle watching the clouds sail by, while somewhere downstream Goldberry and Iarwain sang at each other. "I wonder if he would have been so committed to his disguise if he'd known Lúthien's grandsons were walking about Ost-in-Edhil."

But then the news had gotten worse, and worse, until it was clear that no one in Eriador—indeed, no one in Middle-earth—could safely avoid this conflict. It seemed even Iarwain's little realm might be overrun, though it might hold out beyond all else. So they'd packed their things and struck out westward, and found a company of Gil-galad's soldiers to offer their services as scouts. "Master Elrond will need your skills more than we do," the captain had told them. "He's already gone east to Ost-in-Edhil."

They'd followed the path of Elrond's army, but found it now greatly diminished, and in the confusion around Ost-in-Edhil they'd managed to lose it entirely. Which was good, for it said that Elrond and his people were managing to hide their tracks.

"Here," Eluréd called to Elurín. "Blood," he said as Elurín jogged back to join him. He plucked a few leaves from a bush. "Someone was injured who passed by. Going that way." He pointed toward the mountains. They were heading further east than expected. And now that they'd discovered the first signs, it was easy to see the hidden trails. Whoever had done the work had either come from or been taught by someone out of Doriath, for they used the same methods that Nellas had taught Eluréd and Elurín. "Do you think Nellas is with them?"

"Maybe." Eluréd hoisted himself into the branches of the nearest tree. It was easier, faster, and safer to travel through the branches than to stay on the ground. Elurín followed, and they started to run, flying from branch to branch, swifter than squirrels, and quieter. The trees knew them, and whispered greetings and encouragements as they passed, some even extending and swinging their branches to speed them on their way.

It was twilight when they caught up with Elrond and his people. There were women and some children, and some elderly Men, huddled in the middle, with soldiers surrounding them. They had stopped, but Eluréd saw no signs of encampment. They could not afford to stop and rest for long, with an enemy that preferred to move by night. Eluréd and Elurín crouched in a tree several yards from the nearest guard, who was swaying where he stood, clearly exhausted. "They cannot keep going as they are," Eluréd whispered. "Are _any_ of them unhurt?"

"I can see a few," Elurín replied, squinting. "I don't see Nellas. But there's Elrond, with Celeborn."

Sneaking past the sentries was very easy, for Eluréd and Elurín had learned long ago how to weave the shadows about themselves so that their movements appeared to be nothing more than flickering torchlight or leaves moving in the softest breeze. Elurín slipped away after a short time to take up his own watch, while Eluréd crept closer to Elrond and Celeborn and their captains, to try to learn something more of their situation.

"…go much farther," someone was saying when Eluréd got close enough to hear properly. "Not without a proper rest."

"We can't risk it," Celeborn said. "They're right on our heels. Stopping even this long is a risk." There was a rustle as they unrolled what Eluréd assumed was a map. "What about the High Pass? We can take refuge in the Greenwood."

"It's too far," Elrond said. Eluréd peered through some briers to catch a glimpse of him, shadows from their single torch dancing across his face; he held himself stiffly, like he was hurt, though how he was wounded Eluréd could not tell. "Sauron will overtake us long before we reach it."

"I don't see that we have any choice but to try," said someone else.

"They'll never make it to the High Pass," Elurín said when Eluréd reported what he'd heard. "Elrond is right, it's too far. And even if they _did_ make it, there'd be orcs waiting for them in the mountains."

Eluréd stared up at the mountains, dark silhouettes against the starry sky. "I know where they can go," he said finally. "The river valley. It's much closer than the pass, if I remember right."

They called it the river valley because it was filled with water—tiny rivers and streams, all flowing down, or falling over silver waterfalls, from the Misty Mountains to eventually join the Bruinen. There were pungent pine woods and meadows filled with sweet-smelling wildflowers, too, and the best part was that it was hidden, nearly impossible to find if you didn't already know the way. Over the years Eluréd and Elurín had forged a track down the steep cliffs into the valley. They'd known from the beginning it was important. Maybe this was why.

Elurín nodded slowly. "It would be difficult getting the wounded and the elderly down the path," he said.

"But not impossible. Certainly less difficult than getting them over the mountains to the Greenwood." Eluréd took a breath. "One of us should scout ahead, to make sure of the way. The other should stay back to help hide the trail." It was a difficult thing to suggest. It was an unspoken agreement between them, never to part ways. But here there was not much choice. They were needed in both places.

Elurín took a deep breath. "You go," he said. "I'm going to drop back to see if I can slow the enemy. There's a rock slide just waiting to happen a few miles back."

"Be careful."

"You, too. Don't let any mountains fall on you this time!"

Eluréd made his way carefully further into the foothills. He moved slower than usual; he'd never come to the valley at night before, and of course everything looked different in the dark. He stayed on the ground, this time, looking for familiar shapes in the rocks; it had been several decades since he and Elurín had last been this way, and even the steadiest of trees would be changed by this time.

It was nearly dawn when he found the overgrown track leading into the hills. Gil-Estel shone overhead in the graying sky as Eluréd came finally to the crest of the hill that led down into the valley. It was just as he remembered it; even so late in the year, the faint scent of flowers drifted up to him, and the sound of flowing water echoed off the hills around him. In that moment, Eluréd wanted nothing more than to descend into the valley and lose himself among the pine trees, where there would be nothing to trouble him.

Instead he turned and made his way back, down out of the hills and southward. In the distance over the trees he could see dark smoke, as Sauron and his monstrous servants continued to destroy everything that lay in their path, whether it was necessary or not. He gritted his teeth, and took to the trees. He knew the way now, by day or by dark.

He met Elurín sitting in a chestnut tree, gathering the ripening nuts. "They'll catch up soon," he said. "I ended up blocking the only path through some hills, entirely by accident."

"A bigger rock slide than you intended?" Eluréd asked.

"Mm. Here they come." Elurín leaned forward as the forefront of Elrond and Celeborn's bedraggled army came into view. It was just after midday, but they looked ready to drop. "They've been on the move since just after you went scouting," Elurín continued in a whisper. "Did you find the valley?"

"Yes. It's not far. They might make it by tonight. If the skies keep clear, the moon should be light enough to make their way down the cliffs."

They fell silent as the clearing below filled with people. Elrond happened to drop his things just below their dangling feet, although he did not look up. They watched him run fingers through his hair and wince as he immediately encountered a mess of tangles. Eluréd and Elurín had only visited Lindon a few times, and never openly, and so they had seen their nephew before only at a distance. Up close it was startling to see so much of Dior in his face—and Lúthien, of course For themselves, Eluréd and Elurín took after Thingol in looks as well as height, except for the dark hair they had inherited from Lúthien and Melian. Elrond was tall as well, of course, but dressed in the silver and blue of Gil-galad beneath his Noldorin armor.

"Well, better reveal ourselves sooner rather than later," Eluréd murmured to Elurín. "Else we might get shot at."

Elurín nodded, and dropped a chestnut, still in its spiky shell. Elrond yelped when it struck the top of his head, and only then did he look up. The startled look on his face would have been comical were it not for the circumstances and the blood and grim smeared across it. "Well met," Elurín said cheerfully. "You're almost there, you know."

"Almost where?" Elrond asked. "Who…?"

Eluréd dropped lightly to the ground; Elurín followed after, bearing his bulging bag of chestnuts. "There is a valley not very far from here," he said. "It's hidden, and difficult to reach—but not impossible. A good place to hide."

"There are no such valleys in this region," Elrond said, although he seemed to doubt his words as he spoke them.

"There is one," Eluréd said. "Will you allow us to show you?" Elrond's expression went instantly from wearily baffled to wary. Eluréd swallowed a sigh. "Bring whoever you like along," he said. "We promise we won't throw you off the cliff!"

It was clear, at least to Eluréd, that Elrond did not much want to follow two strangers into the foothills. But he was also desperate to find a haven for his people. So he called for Celeborn, and leaving someone called Erestor in charge, they followed Eluréd and Elurín. Elurín tossed his bag of chestnuts to a bewildered Erestor before jogging ahead, Eluréd on his heels.

It took longer to get back this time, because Elrond and Celeborn moved more slowly, hindered by exhaustion and heavy armor. "This way," Eluréd said finally, taking a sharp turn between a cluster of hemlock umbels and a large moss-covered boulder. The path wound upwards through brambles and other thick underbrush, and when they finally reached the end of it, at the cliff edge, Elrond nearly tripped and fell over, before Elurín caught him.

"Oh," Celeborn breathed as he joined them.

"How do we get down?" Elrond asked finally, not taking his eyes from the view. Sunlight shone golden on some misty falls, and cast rainbows in others. A nightingale sang nearby.

"There's a path just there." Elurín pointed. "It's a bit tricky; we're the only one's who have made it, and we don't often come here. But it will serve. Especially since you are on foot."

"We lost our horses," Elrond murmured absently, as he went to examine the path. He went down, maybe halfway, before returning. "Celeborn?"

"It will work, if we can get everyone here in time," Celeborn said. He looked at Eluréd and Elurín, and then looked again, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Thank you," he said, although he sounded more suspicious than grateful.

"You are most welcome," Elurín said. "And you have a little time," he added, baring his teeth in a grin, "there was a rock slide down the mountain earlier today. It blocked the only real road up the mountainside. I imagine the Enemy is rather frustrated at the moment."


	2. Chapter 2

Once in the valley, they were effectively under siege, although Sauron did not know exactly where they were. That did not stop him from hemming them in, however. Even Eluréd and Elurín could not slip through Sauron’s armies to take a message to Gil-galad, and so they could only hope that rumors reached their allies in the West.

“This may turn to their advantage,” Erestor said. He and Elrond stood beneath a tree in which Eluréd had chosen to nap, although that was difficult with all the construction going on just across the river. A great house was halfway completed, and everyone was hopeful that it would have a roof before winter’s first snowfall. “Sauron cannot send his full force against Gil-galad if he is afraid we’ll attack from the rear.”

“But he will not have that worry if we sit here idle,” Celeborn said from Elrond’s other side. With a glance at Eluréd, he continued, “We should send out raiding parties. We’ll win no great victories, but we can be a thorn in Sauron’s side until help from Númenor comes.”

Eluréd grinned. “That is a good plan,” he said. “Are there any among your company who know these lands well?”

“A few,” Erestor said. “None are here now; they’ve all gone hunting and foraging. We need to gather as many supplies as we can to set aside for winter.”

“We can find supplies aplenty in the Enemy’s camps,” Eluréd said.

Erestor wrinkled his nose. “I would not want to eat any food taken from orcs,” he said.

“Sauron has many Men among his servants,” Celeborn said. “From the south and east.”

“And they know this country not at all,” Eluréd said cheerfully. He abandoned all hope of a nap and dropped to the ground. “Their scouts have been having a terrible time, wandering in circles, even losing their own trails! Why, my brother and I watched one disturb a mountain cat’s lair just the other day; he escaped the cat, but tripped into a ravine before he could warn his fellows not to go that way.”

“I don’t suppose he had help finding the cat?” Elrond asked. Celeborn crossed his arms, frowning at Eluréd; it was clear he still did not know what to make of Eluréd and Elurín, and it did not please him.

“Certainly not!” Eluréd raised his eyebrows. “Although he did help us, as now we know where it lives.” He and Elurín had followed many scouts, and had done their best to confuse their trails and lead them astray, but they had slain none. To do so would be to announce their presence, they thought, and that would only lessen the enemy’s confusion.

“Do you know where a Mannish company is that we might raid?” Elrond asked after a moment. “And would you lead a raiding party?”

“We can guide one,” Eluréd said. “But not lead it. My brother and I are not used to working with others in the wood, and we would just make a mess of things.” This admission seemed to surprise the others, but Celeborn immediately volunteered to lead the raiding party, and Eluréd went to find Elurín so they could scout ahead, to ensure there was actually a company worth raiding for supplies close by.

They left the valley in the early evening, the party comprised of Men and Elves used to hunting by stealth, clad in light hoods and cloaks of elven make that would shield them from any unfriendly eyes. Eluréd and Elurín had no such cloaks, but they did not need them. When they did not wish to be seen even the keen eyes of Celeborn could not see them.

A large company of men from far to the south and east had made their camp several leagues from the valley, reached through thick gorse and heather and clusters of tall trees whose canopies cast deep shadows on the ground, made even deeper by the flickering firelight of the men. Eluréd saw their banner with its hideous red eye and curled his lip; it would be a great pleasure to set the thing alight.

When a count was made, Celeborn gathered their party together, and almost silently gave directions—some men were to focus on stealing what they could, while others guarded them; the rest would distract and disrupt the enemy soldiers, killing as many as they could and hopefully frightening the rest. Eluréd and Elurín took to the trees with their bows. The twang of Eluréd’s bowstring could hardly be heard as he killed first one guard, then another, then a third. It was not until Elurín felled his fourth than the soldiers became aware that something was amiss. That was when the calling began, cries that echoed all around the camp, echoing through the trees—Elven voices that wavered and wailed in the shadows, like the wights or wraiths that some Men thought they were.

Neither Eluréd nor Elurín were part of the company that stormed the camp, but he saw Celeborn at its head take the banner and throw it into the fire, his silver hair gleaming in the flames that licked at the eye, before he vanished into the underbrush again.

When they returned with the dawn, they had several large bags of food, and even more good blankets, and even bandages and needles and threads for tending wounds. As they distributed the blankets and found places to store the food, Eluréd felt Celeborn watching them. Elurín grinned at him cheerfully, but Celeborn only looked troubled. Later, Eluréd saw him talking to Elrond.

“I think he’s starting to put it together,” Elurín remarked, slinging an arm around Eluréd’s shoulders. “It’s taken them longer than I would have thought.”

“Good thing for you I refused the wager, then,” Eluréd said, but his thoughts were elsewhere. “Elurín, I’m worried about Nellas. I spoke with one of the survivors of Ost-in-Edhil today—Aeglessil, her name is. She had met Nellas not long before this mess started. It seems Lady Galadriel departed with her daughter through Khazad-dûm before Sauron’s armies arrived, and Aeglessil thought Nellas might have gone with them, but she couldn’t be sure. And no one else remembers seeing her during the battle, or after.”

“Have you asked Elrond?”

“Not yet. But Elrond wouldn’t know, he’s as lately come here as we are, almost.”

“Ask Celeborn, then. Nellas would have spoken with him, anyway, whether she went with Lady Galadriel or not.”

They waited until Celeborn left Elrond, before following him down to the river, where a handful of children were trying their hand at fishing. Elurín stopped to show one which piece of bait would be better, leaving Eluréd to strike up a conversation alone. But Celeborn beat him to it: “Are you from Doriath?” he asked, turning to meet Eluréd’s gaze. “Your speech tells me yes, but I do not remember your faces.”

“We did dwell in Doriath, but only briefly, before it fell,” Eluréd said. “We went east to the mountains after, rather than following Sirion down to the Sea.”

Celeborn frowned at him. “Only one other has told me that tale,” he said. “Did you travel with Nellas, then? Nellas, daughter of Tinnion the carpenter?”

“Yes.” Eluréd gestured back toward the main camp. “And she was in Ost-in-Edhil, but is not here. Do you know what became of her? Did she leave with Lady Galadriel?” Elurín had come to join them, and both he and Eluréd stood tensely, awaiting Celeborn’s reply. Eluréd had thought they’d long outgrown the idea that their guardian and friend was invisible, yet it seemed impossible to him that she could have done anything but escape.

“Yes, she did,” Celeborn said, and the relief was enough to make Eluréd’s knees feel weak. “Galadriel asked her to go with them, though Nellas was loath to pass through Hadhodrond.”

Elurín bowed. “Thank you,” he said. “We have been worried about her, and it is good news indeed that she is safe in Lórinand.”

“Indeed.” Celeborn crossed his arms. “Yet when she spoke to me of her passage across the Ered Luin after the fall of Doriath, she never mentioned companions.”

“Did she not?” Eluréd asked, adopting a look of innocence. If Nellas herself had been there she would have scoffed and cuffed him upside the head. “How strange.”

“But surely she had her reasons,” Elurín said. He did not try to look innocent at all. They had never taken new names, and it seemed hard to believe that no rumor of a pair of wanderers with the same names as Dior’s sons had reached Gil-galad in Lindon, or Celeborn in Eregion. “Thank you again,” Elurín added, “and if you will excuse us, my brother and I thought we’d explore some of the nooks and crannies in this valley.”

“And what are your reasons for keeping your names a secret?” Celeborn called after them.

“Haven’t you guessed yet?” Elurín called back, laughing.

They spent three days scaling the cliffs and steep hills at the back of the valley, and returned to send back the more adventurous foragers for a great store of nuts and roots and berries for the winter. While they were foraging, Celeborn led two more raiding parties against Sauron’s armies, and their scouts brought back rumor of great discontent among the Men and orcs under Sauron’s command—tales of wraiths and monsters that haunted the foothills of the Misty Mountains.

Elurín bared his teeth in a grin. “Wraiths and monsters,” he said. “I like that.”

“What say we add to the tales?”

It was not hard to find the roaming bands of orcs Sauron had sent into the mountains, and scarcely less difficult to kill. Thus they spent the autumn, and even the winter; one did not leave tracks in the trees, and orcs and Men from the far south were careless—not to mention vulnerable—in the snow. They used nightingale calls for signaling, and did so purposefully though there were no nightingales to be found in Eriador in the wintertime. “Let Gorthaur hear of it,” Elurín said, eyes glittering in the moonlight, orc blood splattered dark across his face. “Let him know it is the line of Lúthien that torments him still.”

The winter was a long one, and difficult for those hidden in the valley. They had gathered as much food as they could, and the large house had been completed before the first frosts, and being of Noldorin design it was sturdy and sound, but there were many children and elderly Men among them, and they could not endure the same hardships that grown Elves could. And even though Sauron did not know precisely where they were, they were still effectively under siege, and even the most patient among them would chafe at that after a time.

One afternoon, Eluréd and Elurín returned to the valley just in time to rescue a child that had fallen into the river. Her parents had perished in Ost-in-Edhil, and her grief had made her wild, unwilling to do as she was told no matter who was doing the telling. Elurín splashed into the water, yelping at the cold, and scooped her out. Eluréd wrapped her in one of their spare blankets. “I am sure someone told you not to venture near the river,” he said mildly as she curled up in his arms, shivering violently. “What is your name?”

“Why should I tell you?” she asked, defiant to the end, although the effect was somewhat lost behind blue lips and the way her voice shook. “ _You_ won’t tell anyone _your_ names.”

“Yes, but we are much older than you,” Eluréd said. “That allows us a bit of mystery. But,” he added, “I shall make you a deal, shall I? Tell me your name, and I will tell you mine, and I will teach you to use that knife my brother has just taken off you.”

She twisted so hard he nearly dropped her. “That’s mine!” she cried, seeing the blade in Elurín’s hands. “Give it back!”

“Your name first, young mistress,” Elurín said. He tossed the knife into the air and caught it by the handle. It was a fine blade, of Elven make, with a handle of intricately carved bone. He had also fished a small pack of food out of the river, which did not speak well of the girl’s intentions, or her sense. Eluréd adjusted his grip and continued up the snowy, slippery path toward the house.

The girl hunched her shoulders. “Hulda,” she said finally, grudgingly. “Daughter of Gunnar and Hilda.”

“Ah, you come from the lands around the Long Lake, don’t you?” Eluréd asked. Elurín opened the door for them, and they took Hulda to one of the smaller rooms that Elrond had given to them for their own use. It had its own hearth, though it was empty and cold yet. While Elurín busied himself with the fire, Eluréd briskly stripped Hulda of her wet things and bundled her in a new, dry blanket.

“Yes. Papa was a trader.” Hulda frowned at him as he rubbed the damp blanket over her hair, which had long since come loose of its braids. “Now you tell me _your_ name.”

“I am Eluréd, and my brother is Elurín.”

To his surprise, she scowled at him. “Those aren’t your names!” she said. “Those are from a story! One of the older Elves told it last night, about Lúthien and Beren and the Jewel they stole! It all happened a _long_ time ago!”

“Then do you not believe that Master Elrond is the son of Elwing the White, who took the Silmaril from Doriath to Sirion when it fell, and thence to Eärendil’s ship Vingilot and on to Valinor?” Elurín asked.

Hulda looked uncertain, but only for a moment. “But the story said Eluréd and Elurín _died_ ,” she said, narrowing her eyes at them.

“Yes, so all the tales say,” Eluréd said. “And that is why Lord Celeborn, who was there, does not believe what his eyes tell him, and why it amuses us so to keep him guessing.” He tweaked Hulda’s nose. “Now sit by the fire, Mistress Hulda. You’re still a bit blue around the edges. Have you any extra clothes?” She shook her head, which was unsurprising. There had not been ample time to pack for those fleeing the city. “Then you’ll have to stay here until they’re warm and dry as well, and until you discard such foolish ideas of running away home. Lucky for you we were coming back today; if you had not drowned or frozen, you would have been caught by orcs for certain.” Hulda blanched. “But of course you have learned your lesson well,” Eluréd continued, “and will certainly not try anything like that again. Now. How shall we entertain you?”

She scowled at him again. “You don’t have to _entertain_ me. I’m not a _baby_.”

“Very well, then. Elurín, how shall we entertain ourselves?”

In reply, Elurín brought out his flute, and so Eluréd dug out his lap-harp. They sang a long and slow hymn to Elbereth that had Hulda sighing and yawning, before Elurín struck up a lively tune, one they had heard often in the Withywindle river valley. Eluréd laughed and sang what he could remember of Iarwain’s nonsense, and of the busy badgers that liked to torment him, and of the wind in the willow trees and the heather, and of fair Goldberry in her lily pool. Hulda was delighted by all of those, although at first she tried very hard not to show it.

“Where did you learn all that?” she demanded as soon as the tune ended. “That’s not like any music I ever heard. Not from _Elves_. The ones from Eregion all just like to sing about starlight and sea foam and Elbereth, for all the good _that_ does them.”

“You should not speak so lightly of Elbereth,” Elurín said gently. “She is not deaf to our songs, and that brings comfort, especially to those Exiles who remember what it was to dwell in Valinor under the Light of Laurelin and Telperion.”

“But she won’t _do_ anything,” Hulda grumbled, huddling in her blanket, the scowl back, it seemed, to stay.

“No,” Eluréd said slowly, exchanging glance with Elurín, “the Valar will not march upon Middle-earth again—the last time they did so nearly all of Beleriand was sunk beneath the Sea. No, if they send help it will be more subtle—but Gorthaur is not his master, no matter how large his power seems at the moment.”

“And he has been defeated before,” Eluréd said. “And not by any of the Valar.”

“But to answer your question,” Elurín said before Hulda could start arguing again, “let us tell you of Iarwain Ben-adar and Goldberry the River-daughter!”


	3. Chapter 3

That winter was only the first they spent hidden in the valley and doing their best to remain a thorn in Sauron's side. When they were not out hunting orcs, Eluréd and Elurín did as promised and taught Hulda to wield her knife, which they learned had belonged to her father; the lessons not only taught her a new skill, they kept her busy enough—and tired enough—that she gave no more thought to running away. The other older children saw these lessons, and soon they had an entire class full, using sticks to practice what Eluréd and Elurín could teach them.

The rest of the time Hulda followed them about, so that Elurín took to calling her Duckling, which made her stomp away the first few times he used it, but she always came back. She said they were the least boring of the valley's residents. Perhaps this was because they were the only ones bold enough to laugh at and tease Elrond and Celeborn, or indeed to laugh and tease anyone at all in such grim times.

When spring came the fighting picked up again, and Elurín and Eluréd spent more and more time away from the valley, keeping the orcs from finding it and leading Sauron's scouts on merry chases through the mountains. News came to them of the wider world through rumor brought by birds to Eluréd and Elurín and others who knew the speech of birds and beasts. Whether similar news reached Gil-galad of them, no one could be sure.

Elrond started to join the raiding and hunting parties. On one particular day he went out with Eluréd and Elurín, not to hunt orcs, but whatever game could be found. They had to roam farther and farther afield, deeper into the foothills of the Misty Mountains, looking for whatever had not been killed already or scared away.

They found themselves at the bottom of a deep ravine, through which a small stream flowed; the mountains towered overhead, even more imposing than usual, swathed in heavy grey cloud that, as they watched, tumbled like an ethereal avalanche town towards them. "It will rain soon," Elurín said. "And I would rather not find out whether this place is given to floods."

They turned back as the clouds moved to obscure the sun. They passed caves that doubtless led to tunnels beneath the mountains; Eluréd and Elurín had thought of exploring such places, once, but had decided against it—the chance of getting lost and never finding their way to sunlight or starlight again had been too great. But there were plenty of other caves in which they could take shelter that did _not_ connect to tunnels, or house anything more alarming than a mountain cat or a bear.

They found one such cave not far from the end of the ravine, up a steep slope, just as raindrops started to fall. "This is cozy," Elurín remarked. He stretched his legs out across the entrance as Eluréd and Elrond made themselves comfortable just behind him. "We may be here all night."

Elrond leaned against his pack and glanced between them. "Do you spend much time in the mountains?" he asked.

"Not as much as we should, it seems," Eluréd said. "We've never discovered that ravine before today."

"We could have spent the past thousand years exploring these mountains and not discovered even half their secrets," Elurín said. This, of course, prompted Elrond to ask where they _had_ spent the last thousand years. "Oh, everywhere, really," Elurín said. "We crossed the Misty Mountains at the beginning of this Age and spent many years getting acquainted with our distant kin on the other side, in the Greenwood and in Lórinand to the south, before we f

ollowed Anduin down to the Sea, and followed the coastline back to Eriador."  
"We visited Lindon once or twice," Eluréd added. "And of course we visit Iarwain Ben-adar and the River-daughter whenever we find ourselves near her little river."

"We grew up in those woods, and on the eastern slopes of the Ered Luin," Elurín said. "Iarwain and Goldberry were our near constant companions." Elrond's eyebrows rose a fraction, as though this answered quite a few of the questions he had been wanting to ask. For a moment he looked so like their father Dior that Eluréd had to look away.

Neither Eluréd nor Elurín ever spoke of their parents, and Eluréd tried not to even think of Dior if he could help it. It was easier to remember Nimloth, who would certainly be released from Mandos one day, and of Elwing who had never died. But Dior had died long before Elwing and Eärendil had received their choice, that was then extended to their sons and to Eluréd and Elurín as well. Only Mandos himself knew whether Dior remained yet in his Halls or if he had followed Beren and Lúthien beyond the Circles of the World.

"The more I learn about you, the more mysterious you seem to become," Elrond said. "Celeborn says you departed Doriath with Nellas, after the Second Kinslaying. He seems to have guessed your names, but he won't tell me, and he seems troubled by it."

"And you in all your famed wisdom are still without any guess? For shame," Elurín said. He crossed his legs at the ankles and his hands behind his head.

"How can I guess?" Elrond asked. "Your hints all lead to Doriath, but my mother was a mere babe in arms then, and I not even a distant thought. And I have other things to worry about, more important than your guessing game," he added, but not sharply. "Though I do wonder why you never came to Lindon after the War of Wrath. Many who survived Doriath yet remained, especially in the earliest years of this Age. I remember Nellas came to seek her own family, though she left quickly enough when she found them all gone or sailed."

"We had all the news we wished from others," Elurín said.

Dark came early, with the steady rainfall, and they bedded down with it. Eluréd felt uneasy, and traded places with Elurín to take the first watch. Few things would be out in the rain, and fewer still that might mean harm, but he had not survived so long by ignoring his instincts. Yet neither he nor Elurín had noticed anything earlier in the day.

Nothing came during Eluréd's watch, but he woke to a yell from Elurín in the middle of the night; it had stopped raining, though clouds still obscured the moon and stars, and Eluréd could barely make out Elurín grappling with something that hissed and snarled in the cave's entrance. Happy they had insisted Elrond sleep farthest back, he grabbed his knife and lunged forward, meeting a familiar mass of leathery wings and thick dark hair, an Elven form half-transformed into that of a great bat. They had met such a creature before, on their very first journey to the Misty Mountains.

But as Eluréd made his move the vampire seized Elurín, and they tumbled out of the cave and down the rocky slope. Eluréd reached the cave's entrance just in time to see them fall into water—where a mere trickle had been that evening was a rushing, swollen creek filled with debris from farther up the mountains. "Elurín!" he shouted as his brother disappeared into it. Fear gripped him, icy and suffocating—but not paralyzing. He scrambled down the hill, ignoring Elrond's voice calling behind him, and raced along the edge of the creek. It was hard to tell anything apart in the darkness, but twice he saw Elurín surface, still grappling with the vampire, both of them trying to push the other down as they clawed themselves up.

Finally, Elurín managed to catch hold of the roots of a gnarled old tree still clinging to the increasingly muddy embankment. Eluréd slipped and slid over to it, not liking the way it leaned and lurched when the vampire tried to claw Elurín's fingers free. "Elurín!" he called again. "Elurín, hang on!" He reached the edge of the bank and, grasping a low-hanging branch, leaned out over the water, reaching for Elurín.

The vampire launched herself out of the water with a snarl, knocking Eluréd back onto the bank, and Elurín back into the swirling current. As she sank needle-sharp teeth into Eluréd's arm, something shot past them with a blur—it was Elrond, diving into the water after Elurín. Eluréd cursed in all the languages he knew, and twisted, rolling so that he was on top of the vampire.

Overhead, the clouds parted, and in the faint starlight he recognized the creature—the vampire Daedheleth, who had hunted he and Elurín before, the first time they had crossed Eriador alone to see the Misty Mountains. She snarled at him, spitting curses on the line of Lúthien as they fought, she with teeth and claws, he with his knife. By the time she managed to free herself they were both slick with blood, and with one last snarl she vanished into the night.

Eluréd swayed on his knees, before forcing himself up to his feet. Elurín and Elrond. He had to find them; they could hunt Daedheleth later, wherever she had gone. He stumbled along the water as the clouds passed back over the stars. After a few minutes it began to rain again, a small smattering of drops first, and then a steady downpour, making it even more difficult to see. Eluréd had trouble keeping his footing, let alone seeing anything floating in the creek. "Elrond!" he shouted, just to feel like he was doing something, for surely neither Elrond nor Elurín could hear him. "Elurín!"

He didn't know how long he ran through the rain. He fell twice, and getting up was harder each time; Daedheleth's teeth and claws were sharp, and the deep cuts she'd given him bled freely, but he couldn't stop to bind them. He found his thoughts turning to Ulmo. He was lord of all waters, it was said, not only of the sea. "You took pity on our sister once," Eluréd said aloud. He did not know if Ulmo could hear him—if he was even listening—but surely if anyone was… "Please do not let them drown!"

Then he saw them, in the dark water two darker shapes, clinging to a large stone in the middle of the stream. "Elrond!" Eluréd shouted over the roar of the water and the pounding of the rain. "Elrond, I am here!"

A large log came floating down, and Elrond—it had to be Elrond—pushed himself and Elurín off the rock to latch onto it. Eluréd jogged along the shore, watching the log as it bumped into other pieces of debris, never quite getting close enough to the bank. If only they had rope! But their coils were back in the cave, and there wasn't time to go back for them.

But finally, the log swung around, and got close enough to another large rock close to the bank that Elrond could get an arm around. With his other arm he held Elurín, only barely managing to keep his head above the water; Elurín seemed to be unconscious. Only unconscious, please, Eluréd prayed as he reached out to pull them onto solid ground. He and Elrond hauled Elurín as far from the water as they could, beneath an overhang that somewhat sheltered them from the rain. Once they were safe, Elrond pushed sodden hair from his face and bent over Elurín, checking him over as thoroughly as possible, in the dark and wet and dirt. "Is he—" Eluréd began.

"He's alive," Elrond said. "I think he hit his head, somehow, but he's breathing." He looked up, and frowned. "You're bleeding. _Everywhere_."

"I'll be fine." Eluréd fell to his knees beside Elurín and shook him gently by the shoulders. "Elurín? Elurín, wake up!" He put power into his words, and after a few tense moments Elurín stirred, coughed, and started to retch. Elrond and Eluréd rolled him onto his side so he didn't choke on the muddy water he'd swallowed.

"Ugh," he said finally, when he stopped heaving. He rolled onto his back, half sitting, propped up against Eluréd. "I hate spring." Elrond snorted, and Elurín squinted up at Eluréd. "…Are you bleeding?"

"He is," Elrond said. "And now that you are awake, I can see to it."

"There isn't much you can do here," Eluréd protested as Elrond further ripped his shirt in his quest to see the claw marks.

"At least let me bind it so you don't bleed out before we get back to our camp." Elrond's eyes glinted in the gloom. "I'm a bit short on relations, Uncle. I would rather not lose the ones I do have. Especially before they are able to answer my questions—of which there are _many_."

Elurín laughed, though it dissolved into a coughing fit almost immediately. "What gave it away?"

"The screams of _Elurín_ made it rather clear."

"Ah, Eluréd! We had been doing so well."

"Well, next time don't fall into floodwaters," Eluréd retorted, but he took Elurín's hand and squeezed it. They had been in some tight spots before, but nothing like this. And he had acted rather foolishly, Eluréd realized as Elrond used bits of their shredded clothes to bind up the worst of his wounds. Running about and shouting—especially before the rain started again, anyone could have heard them. Or anything. He did not know how Daedheleth had found them, unless she'd somehow caught their scent, but who knew what else was out roaming? They would have to be extra cautious on their way back to the valley, and that would be difficult with Eluréd bleeding all over the place and Elurín no doubt suffering the effects of a concussion. How Elrond had gotten out of it unscathed, Eluréd could not guess. Perhaps Ulmo had been listening after all.

By the time the rain let up and the clouds started to break, dawn was approaching, and they could at last see well enough to make their stumbling way back to their shelter. It had not been disturbed, and there was no sign that Daedheleth had returned to it, to their relief. Eluréd had told Elrond about their previous encounter with the creature. Elurín wanted to know how badly Eluréd had wounded her, but Eluréd could not answer. He hoped that he had managed to kill her, but in the dark and the rain it was impossible to know for sure.

In the cave, Elrond got out the proper supplies and saw to Eluréd and Elurín's hurts properly. It involved a distressing number of stitches. It would have been better to rest after that, but all of them agreed that the sooner they left the area, the better. All of them were limping, stiff and bruised on top of their various other hurts. They hadn't even any game to make the trip worthwhile. Eluréd kept his bow out and his eyes open, as Elrond concentrated on helping Elurín navigate the muddy, slippery ground.

They made good time in spite of everything. As dusk fell, though, Eluréd felt the same prickle on the back of his neck. He held up a hand to silence Elrond and Elurín, and turned slowly, listening hard and scanning the trees. A glimmer of movement, and a faint hiss was all he needed to take the shot, cutting the creature off mid-shriek as she started to charge them. The arrow struck her squarely in the chest, and she went down. Eluréd approached cautiously, turning her over with the toe of his boot. Black eyes stared skyward, glassy in death. He breathed a sigh of relief, and retrieved his arrow.


	4. Chapter 4

The war seemed to drag on forever, but it really only lasted a handful of years, before Númenor finally answered Gil-galad's pleas, and Sauron was sent running south with his tail between his legs. During this time Eluréd and Elurín had led raiding parties and acted as spies and scouts, when they were not keeping Hulda and the other children occupied. Once Númenor joined the fight, Elrond and Celeborn grew bolder in their campaigns, engaging the enemy in more skirmishes and even an outright battle or two.

When it was all over Gil-galad came to Imladris, with the triumphant admiral Ciryatur, and Galadriel returned out of Lórinand with her daughter Celebrían. Eluréd and Elurín stayed out of the way while the great ones met and debated, but Eluréd knew it was only a matter of time before Galadriel came looking for them. He had only vague memories of her, but recalled she had been intimidating and keen-eyed when it came to looking into minds and hearts. He and Elurín had long since learned to guard their minds and hearts against such intrusions, aided by the power come to them from Melian, and they had also long since stopped letting anything—or anyone—intimidate them. He doubted whether Galadriel would appreciate their teasing.

"Good afternoon, my lady!" Elurín called out one afternoon, startling Eluréd out of a doze. They were lounging in a tree that stood at the edge of what was in the process of becoming a flourishing herb garden. The chamomile was flourishing, at any rate, scenting the air. A light breeze played among the branches, and teased at Galadriel's skirts and hair as she walked toward them down the path. She wore her hair loose, unlike when she had arrived, and it had been bound back tightly, giving her a rather severe look. Now she was radiant in the sunshine, clad in pale green so that she had the look about her of a buttercup or a daisy—or she would, if Eluréd did not think she might object to such rustic comparisons.

She stopped beneath their tree and peered up at them, eyes glinting in the shade. "My husband told me there are ghosts from lost Doriath dwelling in this valley," she said. "And Elrond said I could find you in a tree somewhere."

Elurín laughed. "Well, here we are! Are the great and Wise done meeting for the day, then?"

Galadriel did not laugh. "You both look too much like Dior Eluchíl not to be his sons. How came you here?"

"We walked, of course," Eluréd said. "Our sister is the one with wings, if you believe the stories." He stretched on his branch, and smiled at a squirrel that had paused in its climbing to peer down at him.

"We told Celeborn and Elrond the tale already," Elurín said.

"I would hear it from you!" Galadriel said. "Or do you intend to remain up there like overgrown children?"

"It isn't a very interesting story," Eluréd said. "And we would rather remain up here. It's comfortable, and Elurín has been making music with the larks." Elurín put his flute to his lips and trilled a few notes. Eluréd recognized the song, and began to sing—it was one of Iarwain's, and was almost entirely nonsense. Galadriel listened for a few minutes before shaking her head and leaving them to it. Perhaps she had hoped less for a chance to speak to them than to peer into their minds; Eluréd did not regret denying her the chance.

 

 

They departed the valley, which was now being called Imladris, or Rivendell by the local Men, at the beginning of summer. Hulda was not the only one in the valley from the lands surrounding the Long Lake, and they were eager to return home as soon as they could. There would not be many orcs in the mountains, hopefully, but Eluréd and Elurín knew the best ways to avoid the stone giants and their games, and had offered their services as guides. They, too, were eager to be gone.

It wasn't that Imladris was unpleasant—it was, in fact, the most pleasant place they had ever stayed, with perhaps the exception of the Withywindle river valley. But they had been trapped there unable to leave for so long that now that they _could_ , the itch to travel returned with a vengeance. Lady Celebrían, Galadriel's daughter, told them that Nellas had gone to stay for a while in the Greenwood; they might meet her on their way to Lake-town and Dale, and if they did not they could seek her out on their way back.

"I hope you will return often," Elrond said when they went to say farewell.

"I'm sure we will," Eluréd said.

"Only make sure you leave our names out of your histories," Elurín added, eying the rolls of parchment Elrond had been busy with, and the ink stains on his fingertips. "It would be more trouble than it's worth, if the whole world knew more than one scion of Lúthien walked the earth."

Elrond laughed. "More than one does—you forget Númenor! But I understand. It says already in the Quenta Silmarillion, _of the fate of Eluréd and Elurín no tale tells_. I won't make a liar of Pengolodh."

"Does it really?" Eluréd laughed. "I like that. It's mysterious."

"We'll bring you back a bottle of wine from Oropher's halls, if he can bear to part with one," Elurín said, turning to head out the door. "Farewell, nephew!"

They left the valley in a flurry of activity, as improvements were made for comfort, now, rather than fortification. The bridge was being rebuilt out of stone instead of wood, and Elves were singing merrily in the trees. The rest of Eriador lay in ruins, but they were traveling east, not west, and for the moment Eluréd did not let it trouble him. It was enough to be walking openly beneath the sun again, with peace returned—however briefly—to the wide world.


End file.
